Odi Et Amo | CORIOLANUS SNOW

13 | odi

WORD COUNT: 4048

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RED WAS THE only thing Coriolanus saw. The red of splattered wine when he had dropped his glass, staining Medea's golden outfit. The red of Kyra's dress while the woman squirmed from Antonius's filthy touch, as Coriolanus stormed towards them. The red of Antonius's blood when Coriolanus landed the first punch. The red of his own blood, spilling from cracked knuckles. The red of his rage.

Kyra stood frozen as Coriolanus beat the brunet boy laying compliant on the ground, his face becoming more covered in blood with every hit. Whether it was Antonius's blood or Coriolanus's, Kyra couldn't be quite sure, but there was no mistaking the bruises swelling on the poor boy's pained face. And there was no mistaking the animalistic anger on Snow's face, eyes wide and wild with something akin to... pleasure.

Power.

This was the true Coriolanus Snow unmasked. Not the calm, carefully crafted man of charm and composure. Kyra could finally see what she had always believed, right on display. While others looked on in horror at the beaten boy, Kyra's eyes focused solely on Coriolanus's face, unable to tear them away.

Away from his beauty.

His golden curls falling like tiny rays of sunlight into his violent face. His sky-blue eyes, manic and feverish, sparkling like stars. His crimson-stained knuckles akin to freshly-blossomed roses, with their brutal thorns and undeniable promises of passion.

A man not just 'a little bit jealous', but... protective. Territorial. Possessive.

Coriolanus did not stop. And Kyra did not want him to.

Watching Antonius lay there, pathetic and vulnerable, as Kyra towered over him, made her feel... powerful. An undeniable fire lit in her stomach, spreading up to her heart and down to between her thighs. An undeniable feeling of lust and love and, most of all, safety. Safety in the knowledge that, for once, someone was looking out for her. That, perhaps, she did not have to face this barbaric world of starving hounds alone.

A safety she had once felt in Sejanus and his wealth. One that now Coriolanus and his brutality had replaced too. And Kyra knew that, from the first punch, there was no chance of holding back her relinquished heart.

And yet, that fact was not the thing that terrified Kyra most. Nor the fact that Coriolanus didn't seem like he was going to stop, even if it killed the boy. What terrified her was that she didn't want him to.  What terrified her was that she hoped he didn't. What terrified her was how Coriolanus's darkness brought to light her own.

"Stop!" Kyra yelled, horrified by her own thoughts around the boy who wasn't even fighting back. "Snow, stop! He's not a threat anymore!"

Either Coriolanus could not hear her or simply chose not to, as his beating did not slow. It did not even hesitate. Kyra turned her attention to the room instead, calling out frantically,

"Someone stop him! The boy's had enough!"

Festus broke free from the paralysed students and tackled Coriolanus, using all of his might to hold back his friend as he cried out, "Stop, man! He's done! He's done!"

But still, Coriolanus did not stop. He thrashed against Festus's tight hold on him, eyes locked onto Antonius, who curled into a ball and cradled his battered face. The effects of the copious amount of wine Coriolanus had consumed heightened his instincts, but thankfully had made his movements sloppier, easier for Festus's burly figure to hold back.